If you were to mention her name in a locker room, or in a girls bathroom, you would always get the same look and smirk sent in your direction. Because she was an urban legend. Someone people told their younger siblings about when they wanted to brag about how awesome it was to be a teenager. The details and the ending...
Flashing lights. That's all he could see: the pulsating strobe of a white brightness blinding him from the indistinguishable scenario playing out around him. He could not feel. Not the cool, autumn breeze, not the fog-like droplets of British showers, nothing. He couldn't hear anything. Maybe a dull thumping deep with...
Winters in London are cold. Harry drinks tea to keep warm. Lena doesn't like that. She's much more of a coffee person, really.
Harry has bad jokes. ↳ all hilarious right reserved copyright © looselaces [abbey and sam productions] if you copy this story or any of our ideas that we write in this book, that's called plagiarism and you will have to deal with the wrath of abbey and sam ♡
Harry could see the dead. Arabelle could see his pain. Others could only see his insanity. © 2015 mortalcurls // est. May 3, 2015
"Why do they call it Shadowood?" I ask as we walk deeper into the forest. Old, dried up leaves crunch beneath my feet as I move a branch to the side, and drops of water from the trees above fall on my clothes from the recent rain. "Because they say that where ever you go, even in the clearings, a shadow is always foll...